In his directorial/screenwriting debut, hip-hop musician and multihyphenate RZA also portrays, natch, the man with the iron fists. Unfortunately, the man with iron fists is cursed with a tin ear, a wooden personality,and ham-handed camera skills. That last didn’t make much sense, but you get the gist: The Man with the Iron Fists is deeply disappointing.

It’s clear that RZA is a lover of Shaw Brothers martial-arts epics such as The 36th Chamber of Shaolin and The Five Deadly Venoms. The simple barebones of his story — various warriors and assassins with names such as X-Blade, Brass Body, Silver Lion and Poison Dagger descend upon a village looking for a cache of gold — seems tailor-made for the genre, and there are enough visual cues to remind us of the greats. Sadly, that’s all they are: reminders of better movies.

From a visual standpoint, RZA the director is all over the map, wanting the film to play homage while at the same time capturing the modern verve of Quentin Tarantino’s Kill Bill (another homage that does it much, much, MUCH better). Very talented martial artists are brought in for the fight scenes, but RZA always cuts away a few moments early from the money shot. You can see hints that something cool is going on, but only hints.

His skills with actors is no better; the usually dependable Lucy Liu provides a pallid reinterpretation of her Kill Bill character; Rick Yune Die Another Day) is a stiff; and RZA — casting himself as a blacksmith who supplies all sides with weaponry — is an emotional blank. There’s a lot going on plot-wise, but you’d be hard-pressed to care.

That leaves the one ace in the whole hole: Russell Crowe (Master and Commander: The Far Side of the World), as the British mercenary Jack Knife. His role is hardly better written, but Crowe, realizing the overt ridiculousness of the thing, unleashes his inner Oliver Reed and commandeers every scene with a boisterously over-the-top performance. He’s the only one having any fun, whether ripping the guts out of villains or pleasuring prostitutes underwater with the liberal use of anal beads. It’s telling that, in a supposed epic of nonstop kung-fu fighting, you keep waiting for the overweight Englishman with a knife to come back. —Corey Redekop

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After acquiring his ninja license in Japan, Cole (Franco Nero, the original Django) heads to Manila to visit his Army buddy, Frank (Alex Courtney, Looking for Mr. Goodbar), an impotent alcoholic with a sprawling plantation, a penchant for cockfights, a dentally challenged wife and a James Caan ’fro.

Frank and Mary Ann (Susan George, Straw Dogs) find themselves under pressure from ruthless businessman Venarius (Christopher George, Pieces) to sell their land, but they don’t want to, so Venarius enlists nefarious means, like a hook-handed henchman. Good thing Cole is there to use his newly minted ninja skills to rip that hook hand clean off the stump.

As Venarius tightens the screws, especially with the hiring of rival warrior Hasegawa (Shô Kosugi, who appeared as different characters in the sequels, 1983’s Revenge of the Ninja and 1984’s Ninja III: The Domination) to fight Cole, the movie gets more violent and ninja-tastic. Director Menahem Golan (half of Cannon Films’ mighty Golan-Globus duo) doesn’t skimp on the throwing stars, of course, but also busts out flash fires, blow-dart map pins and jacks-like face spikes. Meanwhile, Mary Ann wears no bra, not even when on horseback.

It’s hard to tell which is funnier: Venarius calling Cole not by name, but by “ninja,” or Venarius petulantly screaming à la Willy Wonka’s Veruca Salt, “I want my black ninja and I want him now!” Ultimately, it doesn’t matter. What does is that Enter the Ninja is a blast — cheap and cheesy, right down to the ending’s freeze-frame of Nero winking at the camera, but never not deliriously entertaining. —Rod Lott

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Director Jackie Chan’s Project A 2 doesn’t live up to 1983’s pirate-laden original, mainly due to a period-piece setting that bogs down the story like a wet blanket.

Returning as super sailor Dragon Mao, Chan is recruited by the government to go undercover to expose a crooked inspector who stages his own arrests and murders the innocent. Meanwhile, Dragon’s being hunted by the pirates he defeated in the first film, although this is really just a weak throwaway link in order to justify the addition of a numeral to the title.

The first two-thirds of Project A 2 are heavy with dull dialogue, although it occasionally comes alive with an action scene, like when Chan and another man are handcuffed to one another and chased by half a dozen hatchet-wielding baddies. The final 20 minutes or so almost redeem the picture, with an extended set piece involving a giant hamster wheel, chili peppers and a toppling facade (a famous nod to Buster Keaton).

Ultimately, however, the sequel suffers from the same problem as Chan’s Miracles, a 1989 film set in the 1930s: too much period, not enough exclamation. —Rod Lott

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In his directorial debut, Wu-Tang Clan leader RZA distills what’s so enjoyable about 1970s kung-fu films into one spectacular, outlandish romp — a greatest-hits collection of Black Belt Theater fare. In turn, story is secondary to the all-out circus of slaughter, if not incidental altogether. Revenge is the name of The Man with the Iron Fists’ game.

RZA himself stars as the blacksmith of Jungle Village, whose governor has been killed for his gold by the wild-maned Silver Lion (Byron Mann, TV’s Arrow) and Bronze Lion (Cung Le, True Legend). The governor’s son, Zen Yi (Rick Yune, Die Another Day), returns to town to avenge his father’s death; rolling in about the same time is Jack Knife (Russell Crowe, Gladiator), a bloated bloke who practically sets up an alcohol-doused residence among the whores of the bordello run by Madam Blossom (Lucy Liu, Kill Bill).

That’s far more setup than the film needs. With all the chess pieces in place — and they number many more — RZA delights in having them knock each other down with feet and fists of fury, and specially crafted weapons that make the flying guillotine look like a Cracker Jack prize by comparison. He doesn’t skimp on their end result, either: the blood. Paying proper homage, it spurts in geysers.

With booby traps, mirror mazes and sound-effects stings, the whole affair could be considered tongue-in-cheek if said cheek weren’t already sliced open and said tongue already yanked out. This exercise in “hi-ya!” is anything but ho-hum. —Rod Lott

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Directed and “scriped” by its star Bruce Lee, The Way of the Dragon sends Tang Lung (Lee) from Hong Kong to Rome to help protect the Chinese restaurant of a friend’s niece from a steady barrage of neighborhood thugs. Upon arriving in Rome, he dines at the airport lounge, where he eats five soups! This makes him need to go potty! Two times!

No sooner as he reaches the troubled restaurant than the hooligans appear, trying to cajole the owner into selling the land. One of the bad guys looks like an über-feminine Pinocchio. Tang beats them all up, but they just keep coming back for more. And when he takes off his shirt, boy, he means business.

Eventually, the big boss gets wise and hires an American karate expert named Colt to take Tang out. Colt is played by a very hairy and paunchy Chuck Norris, who — let’s face it — was destined to play guys named Colt. He and Lee spar like lightning in the Colisseum, which is really something to see. After Enter the Dragon, this effort — aka Return of the Dragon — may be Lee’s most enjoyable movie. —Rod Lott

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